


I will be the guard, hope to rest upon

by blessshea



Category: Rosewood (TV)
Genre: "adult" language, Episode 2x22, Gap Filler, I guess it depends on how you view romance, M/M, Oops, basically I have no idea how to classify this, direct aftermath of the standoff and gunfight, if theres a next time i'll get the girls in, so no TMI or Pippy mentions, the Author has Feelings though haha, this is platonic if you squint, which i'm sorry about it just didnt work here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessshea/pseuds/blessshea
Summary: Just a plot bunny that bit me immediatley after watching 2x22...





	I will be the guard, hope to rest upon

**Author's Note:**

> Slade and Hornstock are murdering me with their scenes. Gawddd. Comments are my life force, lets talk!

The paramedic frowns sympathetically as he winces. It’s not like he was a stranger to getting shot at and he’s been hit quite a few times thank you very much, but in the fucking hand, really. 

Goddamn it hurts.

There’s a cop doing a slow lap back and forth about 6 feet out and he can hear the squawk of the walkie going off every few minutes as he watches a herd of CSI’s run by, arms full of equipment and boxes. 3 cops have already gotten taken away by ambulances, Rosie is who the hell knows where, doing who the hell knows what. Mitchie went jogging by earlier when he was getting slathered in iodine and some other shit. Villa had climbed into the back of an unmarked car looking twenty seven different kinds of pissed before it took off like a bat out of hell and the last time he’d seen Slade was when he was charming the local news anchors.

“Shit.” He presses his lips together and prays to several saints that his Cuban sandwich stays in his stomach and the paramedic, whose name was some kind of flower, whispers an apology, before sucking in her breath quickly.

“Oh God, please tell him I’ve been nice to you. He’s insanely intimidating.” 

He follows her deer in the headlight eyes to see Slade heading right for them and he can’t even stop the grin from flitting across his face. “You’ve been doing great. Don’t worry about him.” He says, catching the young woman's eye as Slade arrives and leans against the open door.

“Where’s Villa?” He asks, looking up to meet Slade’s eyes as the Captain slides his aviators into his shirt.

“Pansy, right?” 

He bites back a laugh as Slade turns on his charm and focuses his attention on the young woman who still looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yes, uh, sir.”

“Mmm, don’t bother with the sir stuff. Listen, I really appreciate you taking care of Ira here, he’s very important.” He’s focusing his eyes on her as he talks, but he’s also moved closer and Ira can smell the acid of gunpowder residue, sweat, and Slade’s cologne. None of these things should be comforting, but they are.

  
  


The sound of a throat clearing makes him twitch and he turns to see Pansy hopping off the back of the ambulance, her boots making a solid thud on the concrete.

“I..uh...know you know gunshot wound protocol but..” She starts, waving a packet of papers at him and blushes when Slade takes them from her.

He rolls his eyes, laughing lowly as he climbs off the gurney and joins Slade. “Yeah, not my first rodeo kid.” He waves his bandaged hand at her with a grin,”Thanks for makin’ it quick.”  

Her head bobs as she nods emphatically and her eyes dart between them before she stammers out a goodbye, heading off towards the second remaining ambulance.

“Captain Ryan Slade, terrifying criminals and tiny little EMT’s alike.” He teases before wincing, damn numbing cream is wearing off quicker than he thought it would.

Slade shoves the papers in his back pocket and moves to stand in front of him, raising an eyebrow, arms crossed over the kevlar vest he’s still wearing. “I’m pissed you tried to charge out there, for the record.”

Ira sighs and rubs his face with his one good hand, frowning at the pain starting to radiate up his arm. Their eyes meet and he narrows his at the look on Slade’s face, the earlier smile curving into his beard is long gone. “I seem to recall your dumbass thinkin’ you didn’t have anything to come back to and charging out there. Does that mean I get to be mad at you?”

It’s as straightforward as either one of them have ever been, but he’s in no mood to take it back so instead he just raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge. When Slade’s hand gently wraps around his forearm and gently massages his wrist he decides to count that as a win.

“I’m better when I’m with you, better when we’re all together.” Slade isn’t looking at him, he’s sliding on his sunglasses with one hand and letting go of his wrist with the other. 

They’re standing close, too close and for a heartbeat it reminds him of the moment they’d stared each other down on the boat, before it went straight to hell. Both hands bruised in a fist fight, now one hand bruised in a gunfight, all because of the man in front of him, _for_ the man in front of him. 

“Don’t tell Rosie.” He says as they fall in step together, crossing the parking lot. “But he’s right Cap’, teamwork makes the dream work.”

Slade laughs.


End file.
